


how it can hold me up and kill me in the end

by brookethenerd



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 05:44:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20809517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: Robin Buckley AU in which robin gets jealous of flirting boys that come into the store (aka a clueless and lovesick robin!!!)





	how it can hold me up and kill me in the end

Robin Buckley doesn’t get jealous. She’s been a closeted girl in a small town for seventeen years; she’s spent enough nights crying over straight girls to know better.

So, she wasn't jealous when another typical high school boy whisked you into a game of flirtation at work. She wasn't jealous when you laughed at his dumb jokes or when your hand touched his arm. She just…kind of wanted to throw up. And scream. And bash his dumb blonde head in.

The boy grabbed a random film off the shelf and held it up for you to inspect. Brows furrowed, as if in concentration, you took it and scanned it, nodding with exaggeration.

“Oh, this one is certifiably trash,” you said, “you’ll love it.”

“You interested in watching?” The boy asked, arching a stupidly-thick brow. You smiled, handing the boy the movie.

“Fraternity vacation? With an actual frat guy?” You asked.

“It’ll be like the movie in real life.”

“Tempting,” you said. Your gaze found Robin’s behind the counter and you crinkled your nose as if to say, _is this dude really serious? _But Robin didn’t feel like indulging you and another one of your incessant followers. Not tonight. She’d slept horribly the night before, and after dealing with a messed up shipment all afternoon, there wasn’t a sliver of patience left. 

She tore her gaze away and ducked beneath the counter under the guise of looking for something, holding still in a crouch until she heard the front door’s bell signifying the exit of Mr. Fraternity.

“Lose a contact?” A voice asked. Robin jerked upward and smacked her head into the counter, cursing as she gripped her skull and rose to her feet. You stood leaning on the other side with a knowing grin.

“My dignity, actually,” she muttered, rubbing the growing knot on her head with a few fingers.

“Didn’t realize you had any.”

“You just missed the last shreds.”

Your lips curled into a grin and Robin’s stomach twisted painfully. She urged herself not to smile back, letting her attention fall to the forms on the counter. Inventory needed to be done and would give her an excuse to get away from you, if only for a few minutes. It hurt to be with you and it hurt not to be, but at least she didn’t have to pretend.

“Am I a bad person?” You asked suddenly. Robin flinched, brows knotting.

“What?”

You gave her a wicked smile. “For giving assholes shitty movie recommendations.”

“You mean Fraternity Vacation _isn’t_ in your top five?” She said, trying not to let the asshole comment lodge itself too deep. Hope was a painful, horrible, dangerous thing. It would kill her if she let it.

“Top ten, definitely, but top five?” You retorted with a grin.

“You’re worse than Steve,” she said, shaking her head.

“Low blow,” you said, smile widening and making Robin’s stomach flip. She needed to go. Right now.

She grabbed the clipboard and paperwork and tapped her fingers on the counter.

“You got the front?” She asked. Your smile fell, the hurt only visible on your face for a beat - quick enough Robin wasn’t sure she’d even seen it.

“Yeah. Yeah, I got it,” you said. Robin gave a thin-lipped smile and turned, heading for the back room before her heart got her into any more trouble.

* * *

There was far less to do in the backroom than Robin had hoped, so after screwing around for twenty minutes she settled on the floor between a few boxes, an arm tossed over her face. The tile floor was cool against the back of her arms and her legs, and if she closed her eyes she could pretend she was somewhere far away from Hawkins, Indiana. Somewhere living and surviving were synonymous. Somewhere hiding wasn’t a constant.

“I see the search for your dignity remains intact,” you said from the doorway. Robin didn’t uncover her eyes, lips pulling thin. She didn’t respond, either, not particularly in the mood to humor anyone.

At her silence, you moved further into the room. Robin heard the shuffling of feet and fabric as you dropped down beside her on your back. You weren’t touching, but she could _feel_ the inches between you. She removed her arm and opened her eyes.

“You alright?” You asked. Robin’s gaze settled on the popcorn ceiling and she counted twenty-eight dots before replying.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Liar.”

“Do you care?” She asked, voice harsher than she intended. You flinched in her peripheral vision but she couldn’t find any remorse. She didn’t meet your gaze, holding still as your eyes burned into the side of her face.

She still didn’t move; not when you sat up, or when you stood up, or even when you left.

* * *

The last two hours of work eked by agonizingly slow, with Robin avoiding you at all costs, both sulking around the store. At eleven, Robin went around the turn off the display lights and lock the doors. She made her way back to the counter and went to work on locking up the cash register, too distracted by a sticking key to notice that you were standing on the other side.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked. It was Robin’s turn to flinch.

“Jesus,” she said, “I’m getting you a bell.”

“Are you?” You asked, arching a brow and stepping around the counter, too close, always too close. Robin could only trust herself and her resolve when you were out of arms reach.

“Am I what?” She asked innocently.

“Mad at me.”

Robin frowned.

“Because if you are, I’m sorry. For whatever I did. But I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“There’s nothing to fix,” Robin said, crossing her arms against her chest and forming some semblance of a barrier between you.

“You’re a shitty liar,” you countered.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

“Why?” She snapped. Your brows pulled thin.

“Because…because I-” you stopped, mouth clamping shut.

“Like I said. It doesn’t matter,” Robin said, turning away. You snaked a hand out and caught her by the wrist, pinning her in place. She lifted her gaze to yours, pulse leaping at your touch.

“Tell me what’s wrong. Please,” you said softly. Robin pursed her lips, meeting your eyes with a triumphant gaze. You’d asked for it, and she was too tired not to give it to you.

“I’m in love with you. That’s what’s wrong,” she snapped, tugging her hand free. Your lips parted, unrecognizable emotions flickering through your eyes. Robin looked away; she didn’t want to see the pity when it settled.

“You’re…”

“I am,” she said, “and watching you play with moron after moron _actually_ makes me nauseated. But it’s my problem. You don’t need to worry about it.” She turned to head for the lounge, eager to shed the stupid vest and her stupid feelings and the stupid look on your face.

But she didn’t make it that far. She didn’t even turn halfway before you said, “Wait.”

If it had been anyone else, she wouldn’t have. She’d have kept walking, kept going, kept moving until she was far away from you and the store and everything. But it was _you_, so she stopped.

“The only reason I talk with those guys is…is because I can’t with you.”

“You can’t talk to me?” Robin asked, confusion dotting her features. Your cheeks flushed.

“No, I mean…I mean I didn’t think that I could have what _they_ wanted with the person _I_ wanted.”

“And what is it that you want?”

“You,” you said. It was a simple enough answer, but it didn’t feel simple at all. It felt like the world opening up, like the sky splitting apart. Like that word was all Robin had ever wanted - ever needed - to hear.

“Me,” she said, half a question. 

“You.”

You reached out and took a chunk of her hair between your fingers, twirling it, lips curling up in a smile.

“It’s softer than I thought,” you said. Robin’s stomach twisted, but it was a different pain than before. A pain that was more good than bad. She took your face in her hands, thumbs ghosting your cheeks. She leaned forward, eyes falling shut, and brushed your lips against hers.

“So are these,” she murmured against your mouth. You smiled, and Robin’s chest swelled with so much happiness she thought it might burst. But she kissed you again, anyway. She figured it was worth the risk


End file.
